The Wild King's Wife - Retake
by VenusInBloom
Summary: This is a retake on PHYSCHOCHIC3's The Wild King's Wife, an X-Men FanFiction that I absolutely adore.
1. Chapter 1

This story was originally published by _PHYSCHOCHIC3_ (and called The Wild King's Wife) in the X-Men FanFiction universe. I loved it so much, I wanted to create a Walking Dead version of it since I will not have time to complete my own stories this year.

The story includes historical places and names, but is not historically correct.

As mentioned, the story and the rights belong to _PHYSCHOCHIC3._ And, for my own peace of mind, I will not be responding to comments or feedback - both good and bad; you can refer to A Biker and a Babe if you want to know why.

* * *

Michonne sat sidesaddle on her grey mare and tried not to cry. She was to be married to the newly throned 'The Wild King' – a man she did not know nor love - in a fortnight. She mourned the loss of her home and her kingdom silently, the wedding procession resembling more of a funeral than the historical and important event that it was to be.

. . .

Olivier III of Évreux, her father and the elderly King of the Franks, had agreed to marry her eldest daughter to the new King, Lord Richard I of Ireland and England in the year of our Lord, 3 January 1222, in order to bring peace to both countries. France and Britain had been at war for years with casualties reaching the thousands. There were no longer enough men to fight and no more allies to sway with gold and silk and gunpowder from Asia to continue this useless bloodbath.

Olivier III and Lord Richard I had met on Richard's ship in the English Channel – right in the midst of battlefield – to discuss the ways in which both their countries could live peacefully or amicably without the threat of possible war. However, Olivier III had not expected Richard I to ask for his eldest daughter's hand in marriage.

"Impossible!" Olivier yelled, which caused his soldiers to stand on guard; they were not used to him yelling and were preparing themselves. "She is the heir to the throne of France."

Richard laughed, but remained seated. He bit into his red apple and repeated himself. "She has a sister, does she not?"

"Princess Lorraine is not fit to rule France. She-"

"Is a spoiled brat." Richard interrupted. "I am not asking you for her hand, I am telling you that she will become my wife." He took another bite and finished chewing before he continued. "You speak of peace, but you hesitate the moment I offer it." He stood and paced the room. "You stand no chance against the British Navy, none. Your closest ally refuses to help you in your time of need while I have three isles ready at my disposal." He approached the elder King, "Give me your daughter and I give you peace."

Olivier sat numbly, he was torn. He wanted peace, but at what cost. Eventually Michonne would have to get married and the choice would come down to Richard of Ireland and England as the most suitable match. He sighed and Richard smiled.

"I think we have come to an agreement then, yes?" Richard smirked.

"Yes."

"Good. The wedding shall take place at the new moon in Wexford." He said nothing more and left the French King and his men alone. Olivier did not know how he was to tell his daughter that she was to be married three years ahead of time and to The Wild King no less. Richard had not yelled or gotten angry during the meeting, but he had made himself clear and Olivier was too old to fight. Those days were long gone.

He sighed and stood. "Which one of you will accompany me to my grave?" He said, looking at his men who all seemed to find sudden interest in the plain walls of the British ship's office. "I see."

. . .

Olivier watched as his daughters laughed and sang to another in his late wife's garden. It was their sanctuary from the rest of the world, a place where they could just be girls – be like everyone else.

Richard approached the two beautiful women, both of different origins, with a sad look on his face. Lorraine noticed him first.

"Papa's here!" She shouted as she ran towards him. He had been gone for a fortnight, on a mission to bring peace to England and France. Michonne turned to face him and smiled. He remembered the day he found her in the streets of Paris, he was still young and not yet king. Her hair had been matted from lack of care and her skin, broken from her time in the cold. He had taken her in and despite protest from his mother and father – the King and Queen of France – had raised her like his own. He did not know why he did it, but he was glad he did, it resulted in a beautiful young woman who cherished everything and everyone around her.

Michonne got up and ran to her father who's arms were locked around Lorraine, his biological daughter.

"How was it?" Lorraine asked. "Did you bring any soldiers back? Did you kill anybody?"

"Lorraine, please calm down." Michonne said.

His daughters were three years apart. Lorraine was born after his father abdicated the throne. His wife, Princess Simone de Bourbon had given birth the same year he had been crowned King. However, both soon decided that if anything were to happen, Michonne would be Queen and Lorraine, would become Countess of Valois.

"It brings me no greater joy than to see you two." He kissed them both.

Michonne, immediately sensing something was wrong, let go of his hand. "What's wrong, Papa?"

He sighed and lead them to the fountain where they could sit in privacy. "I must tell you something, the both of you." The two princesses sat on either side of their father and listened intently. "You are to be married, Michonne."

"Married?" Michonne exclaimed. "To who?"

"To Lord Richard I of Ireland and England… In a fortnight."

Michonne let go of his hand and stood up. Lorraine sat quietly. "The Wild King?" He nodded. Michonne dropped to her knees and grasped his cloak. "You must stop this! You must!"

"I cannot."

"Please Papa, do not make me do this." She said, with tears in her eyes. "I cannot be forced to do this."

"I have no choice, he gave me no choice."

"What do you mean he gave you no choice?" Lorraine asked. "What did you do?"

"I did nothing, he told me that he would take Michonne as his wife or continue to wage war against France."

"Peace is more important than your daughter's life?" Michonne cried.

"When I am losing men by the hundreds, yes!" He yelled. Michonne looked up at him shocked. She wiped her tears and stood.

"I will never forgive you for this." She picked up her skirts and ran towards the garden entrance and to her bedroom.

"I suppose you hate me too now." He said as he looked at his youngest with sad eyes.

"I do not hate you, Papa." She said as he smiled a small smile. "I shall talk to her."

"Thank you, darling." He said as he kissed her head.

Lorraine stood up and bid her father goodnight. She made her way to Michonne's room with no intent of sparing her soothing words or embraces.

. . .

"I hear that Lord Richard is a passionate lover." Lorraine said as she brushed her luscious brown hair with Michonne's large brush.

"I do not care!" Michonne said as she wiped the tears that had not stopped falling. "This is my home, this is where I belong."

"Perhaps father should have chosen me in your place." She said as she applied lavender oil to the back of her ears. Michonne had not reacted to Lorraine's statement, but instead sunk further into her bed. Michonne licked her dry lips and stared at the ceiling above her.

"Perhaps." Was all she said as she heard the door slam shut.

. . .

Lorraine stalked to her room, her father, the King of France, had chosen his illegitimate daughter once again. First, Michonne was to be the future Queen of France and now, she was to be the future Queen of England and Ireland while Lorraine remained a princess and a Countess.

. . .

After a few more tears were shed, Michonne made her way back to the garden to reflect. Unfortunately, she did not get the peace and quiet she deserved as Michel d'Orléans made his way to her.

"Good evening, Princess." He said as he kissed her hand.

"Good evening, Michel." She replied, plainly.

"I heard the news of your betrothal to Lord Richard I of Ireland and England."

"Yes, it is to happen in a fortnight." Michonne attempted to say, but her voice broke. Michel was quick to break protocol and hold her.

"I have asked your father to accompany you to Ireland; I vowed to protect you." He said as he kissed her dark brown and curly mane.

She sighed and pushed him away. "Sadly, even with your good and solid comfort and protection, it cannot last forever for one day you will go back to France and to Lorraine's arms." Michel de Bourbon stood speechless. He had not told anyone of his affairs with Lorraine and she had vowed not to speech to her sister about it. "I know about you and her, Michel, but for familiarity's sake, I will allow you to accompany me to Ireland."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Characters**

Lord Richard I of Ireland and England - Rick

Princess Michonne d'Évreux (and then Michonne, of Ireland and England) - Michonne

Princess Lorraine d'Évreux, Countess of Valois - Lori

Olivier III d' Évreux - Original character

Michel d'Orléans - Mike

Simone of Bourbon - Sasha

Sir Shane Lyell - Shane

Margaret (servant) - Maggie

* * *

Michonne sighed as she recalled last month's events and nearly yelled when rain cursed their fates. If her father had not decided to attack the small port of Newport, none of this would have happened and she would not be travelling through the rain to get to a boat going into unknown territory.

Michonne sighed as she recalled last month's events and nearly yelled when rain cursed their fates. If her father had not decided to attack the small port of Newport, none of this would have happened and she would not be travelling through the rain to get to a boat going into unknown territory.

The war had ended almost immediately after her father and Lord Richard I had met, of which she was grateful because it meant being able to see her friends in northern France again, but reality quickly sunk in. When Michel noticed the dreary look in her eyes – he was riding alongside her – he pulled her from her thoughts. "We are stopping for the night, there is no point in travelling through the rain."

The servants and the soldiers who accompanied her agreed. There was no use in being sick, it would only speed up the process of getting to Ireland. Her father and sister had stayed behind, they would be arriving two weeks after her arrival, just in time for the wedding. Her father had insisted that she get to know the King before their nuptials.

"We shall set the tents up and get you dry soon enough, Princess." He said. She smiled at him as he helped her off her horse. She and Michel had been childhood companions, but had drifted as they got older. Once upon a time she had found him interesting, but that soon vanished when she noticed that he had found interest in her sister. Her sister. Perhaps the separation would be good for them.

She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders. "Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked, Michel.

"Not that we cannot handle. You need rest, we have a big day tomorrow." He kissed her cheek and walked away. Michonne did not understand why he insisted on kissing her every time they spoke, he was to be married to her sister. She nodded and started to turn away. Michel grabbed her hand and spun her around to meet his dark eyes. "I am sorry for this, I know how uncomfortable this must be for you… To be with someone you do not love."

Michonne nodded and he released his hold on her. She did not want to cry in front of Michel, especially since he had never loved her, but his words still wrung true. "Thank you." She said.

She pushed open her tent where her lady-in-waiting, Margaret, was. "I am ready for bed, Margaret."

"Yes, your Highness." Margaret curtsied and then went to help her remove her wet clothes.

"may I speak out of term, your Highness?" Margaret asked.

"Yes, of course." Michonne responded.

"Sir Michel… Stay away from him. He is nothing but trouble." Margaret said as she brushed her mistress' long hair. Michonne had been growing it out since her sixteenth birthday, she wanted it to resemble her grandmother's in length. Margaret enjoyed combing it, it was the only time the two had to converse in privacy. "We have heard much about him – about his love of women and drink."

"I do not love him." Michonne said defensively.

"That is not what I mean, your Highness." She put the brush down and grabbed a silk scarf. They did not have much in terms of hair and beauty products as Richard had told Olivier his servants had taken care of things for his new wife. "He does not care for you or your sister, he wants the throne of France and will stop at nothing to get it."

Michonne stayed quiet. "How do you know?"

"We are everywhere, your Highness. Sir Michel loves to talk as much as Princess Lorraine and he is not shy about it."

"What do you suggest I do, Margaret?" she said, turning to face the woman who had become her best friend and confidante.

"Once you are married to Lord Richard, send him away. Give him some land or some duty in Scotland or the Americas where he can cause no trouble to the House." Margaret finished her duties and bid her highness goodnight. Michonne kept her eyes on the door and saw the shadow of a man she knew very well.

"May I come in?" He asked as he poked his head in her tent.

"Of course, Michel."

"We are expecting to be arriving in a sennight. A British naval ship already awaits us at the port of Le Conquet."

"Right, thank you."

"Goodnight, Princess."

"Goodnight, Sir Michel."


	3. Chapter 3

**A SENNIGHT LATER**

Lord Richard I of Ireland and England sat at his throne, watching dancers attempt to seduce his cabinet. It would be a lie to say that he was not aroused, they were all attractive and flexible, but ever since his engagement to Princess Michonne d'Évreux, he could not be bothered to take a whore to his bed.

Olivier III's agreement had been a surprise to him too, but it was necessary. He had no heir to the throne and no woman to marry. Eventually, his uncle would approach him and suggest a marriage of alliance with the French. He could not marry his sisters, the Queens of Spain and Netherland, respectively.

He thought back to what a servant working in the French castle had written to him. She was "a lovely woman with long brown hair and dark skin. She was wise and caring to all, even to the people who hated her." She was also a virgin, to which Richard smiled and masked as he took a sip of his wine.

The figure to his left, his uncle Sir Shane Lyell, was enjoying himself more than he should. He had one dancer on his lap and another, resting her head on his thigh.

"Unlce!" Richard bellowed and his uncle drunkenly turned to him. "Tell me, who accompanies her?"

"Who? The princess?" He said as he stroked one of the dancer's hair. Richard nodded. "Her guard, Sir Michel, her lady-in-waiting, named Margaret, and a dozen or so others."

Richard smirked. "They would be of no use to her here."

Shane Lyell smiled back, "Of course not. Will you have me present when you meet her?"

"Of course."

. . .

"Everything will be fine, Michel." She dismissed as she waited to be presented to her future husband. The trip had been long, but Michonne had been thoroughly annoyed with Michel and his never-ending antics. He refused to let her do anything, keeping a watchful eye on her at all times, even before bed.

Michonne was beginning to wonder what his itentions were but was interrupted by the sound of a horn, indicating their arrival. She had never been so happy to be away from a man in her life. Now, the two of them stood in the large castle – one she had never visited – and awaited for the guard to open the door to her impending future.

"But we do not know him. What if he were to hurt you?"

"I doubt that he would ask my father for my hand in marriage to hurt me, Michel. He knows better than to do that."

"How can you be so sure? You do not know the man, he's named the Wild King for a reason."

Michonne said nothing. As they had made their way through the town, Margaret had filled her in on the reasons as to why he was dubbed the Wild King; he had a temper that often turned volatile. The smallest thing could set him off. Michonne had gulped at the news, but kept her head high. She was not to be intimidated.

"My Lord is ready for you now." The doors man said. Michel sighed angrily and watched Michonne enter the King's library.

. . .

"Your Majesty, Princess Michonne Johanne d'Évreux is here." The door man stated plainly. He waited for his Highness to acknowledge their presence before leaving them alone.

Michonne took a few more steps until she was standing in the centre of the room. Richard noticed this and raised an eyebrow. They had hardly looked at each other in the Great Hall, but he already knew that he would be taking orders from her, despite them both having been bred for these positions.

Michonne noticed another man sitting behind her betrothed. She raised an eyebrow in response and Richard smiled. "Leave us, Uncle." He said without passing so much as a glance to the man responsible for him.

Shane kept his eyes on the princess as he stood up. She was beautiful indeed, her skin was dark – unlike he had ever seen – and he found himself thinking of her in the nude, of all the ways he would be able to take her whilst he pulled on her long curly hair. He would make her cum screaming his name in due time. "Your Highness." He bowed and left.

The two stood in silence for a moment before Richard spoke. "Where is your escort? I was told you arrived with one."

Michonne was taken aback by his voice. She had not expected him to sound the way he did, she was used to British accents, not Irish ones. She quickly composed herself. "He is waiting outside, my Lord."

Richard liked the sound of her voice, her English was impeccable. "You speak English." He said.

"Everyone speaks English, my Lord." She teased.

He could not help, but smirk. "Your escort follows you around."

He was not asking her questions but making statements. It was annoying and interesting. "He is to guard me until the wedding, my Lord."

"Richard."

"Pardon me?"

"My name is Richard. That's what you'll call me." He approached her and her pulse quickened. She was afraid of him. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked. She did not reply. Instead, she took a step back. Richard sighed, this is not what he wanted. He would need to get her trust.

Sensing his frustration, Michonne spoke up. "I am not afraid of you, Richard. In my country, it is most improper to touch someone without their permission, let alone approach them the way you have."

Richard backed away from her with a smile on his face. "I apologize, Princess." He touched his hand to his heart. "It will not happen – without your permission – again."

Michonne nodded. Richard was handsome. He had light brown hair and some form of a beard. His hair and his beard connected, something Margaret had told her British men liked to do. His hair was a bit on the long side, she wondered if he would trim it for the wedding, but she hoped he did not. His blue eyes were captivating her, she could not keep her eyes away from him even if she tried. She smiled at him. "Thank you."

Richard felt himself relax a little bit. "How do you like the castle?"

Michonne looked around the room. "It seems quite nice."

"Good." He answered quickly.

"However, the gardens and the courtyards are missing somethings."

"Such as?" He tilted his head at her, curious as to what it was his home was missing.

"Flowers."

"I suppose that will change in due time."

"In due time." She replied.

There was another pause between the couple, but a pleasant one this time. Richard spoke up. "It is late, I shall let you rest before the feast tonight." He bowed and kissed her hand before exiting the room from another door.


	4. Chapter 4

"He is as handsome as you described, Margaret." Michonne said as the two women made their way through the winding hallways of her future husband's home.

Shane Lyell was speaking to Sir Michel about the village and the isles they managed, but he made him no mind. He kept looking at back Michonne and Margaret as they giggled among themselves.

"What is so funny?" He interrupted Sir Shane.

"Nothing, Michel." Margaret answered for her mistress. "Women talk is all." She said as she pushed her mistress forward, not wanting to waste time on him. The other servants pretended to not have heard the exchange or the conversation prior and followed her Highness to her rooms.

The walls of the castle – or the fortress as Margaret called it – were covered in animal heads, trophies that Richard had killed, and rugs. The floors were bare and every step could be heard. When they made their way up the stairs to her rooms, Shane had bid them good evening, but Michel had stayed.

"We will be quite alright from here on out, Sir." Margaret said as she attempted to shut the door. Michonne thought she would be alone without her sister Lorraine, but she soon found that the company of Margaret was a much more pleasant one. Also, she kept Sir Michel at bay.

"Is that what the Princess says? He asked her.

"Yes." Michonne replied, looking at him. "I have Margaret and she will help me prepare for dinner." Michel still refused to budge. Michonne found his efforts annoying. "Leave us, that is an order." She said.

Michel nodded, bowed and allowed Margaret to shut the door on him.

"I told you." Margaret said before falling into a fit of laughter.

. . .

"Are you sure this is appropriate, Margaret?" Michonne asked as the two women looked at each other in the mirror that had been placed in her rooms.

"You look beautiful." Margaret whispered. "I'll miss you very much."

"You're not going anywhere, you're staying here with me. I cannot bare to be without you." Michonne said turning to her friend. It was not the night of the wedding, but in two day's time, she would be married. Her father and sister would be arriving tomorrow, but they too would be leaving. Then she would be alone except for Margaret.

"What if the King forbids me from staying?" Margaret asked.

"Then he will live a miserable life." Michonne replied.

The two girls laughed and Margaret wiped her tears. "You look beautiful and this is what you will wear to dinner. I shall not help you in another dress, I will not." She stomped. Michonne looked at the woman in the mirror and laughed.

"Very well, Miss Margaret has spoken." Margaret laughed as she went to grab her mistress' comb.

"Lord Richard will be pleased and Sir Michel will be jealous. I shall watch from the sides and laugh at his misery."

"Margaret!" Michonne shushed her.

"I do not car for him, he is as relevant as an ass is to a whore." She finished clipping Michonne's hair and walked to the door. "Your future husband awaits."

"You seem more excited about this than I do, why is that?" She raised an eyebrow at the girl.

"No reason at all, ma'am."

. . .

"Well, you are very beautiful." Richard admired as he kissed her hand.

"Thank you." She blushed. "I presume that you, Lord Richard, are pleased with my dress?"

"More than pleased." His eyes roamed her body involuntarily.

"Can you explain what this dinner is about? My father and sister are not present."

"I wanted to have dinner with you and your guests, is that so wrong?" He teased and she nearly huffed. She had dressed up for nothing.

"Yes actually, it is." She whispered into her goblet but he heard her. Michonne continued to watch the dancers dance seductively. If this was what her future husband expected of her, he was gravely mistaken.

She looked away, hiding her blush, but was surprised to find Richard staring at her. He leaned into her, "Meet me in my rooms after dinner, I want to speak to you _privately_."

She looked at him as he continued to eat and then at Margaret who was standing by the wall. She too had a look of shock in her eyes.

"Very well." Michonne was beginning to wonder if the stories she had heard whispered in the hallways were true. What if Richard was a madman? What if he was trying to harm her. She took another sip of her wine before excusing herself.

…

She paced in her rooms, Margaret sat at the head of the bed.

"We are to be married in two days."

"Yes." Margaret said.

"And he wants to meet me tonight."

"Yes."

"Is that not… Bad luck?"

"Pardon me, ma'am?"

"I read somewhere that when the groom – Richard – sees the bride – me – before the wedding, it is 'bad luck'."

"But he has already seen you."

"Not in private!"

"What about when you met him the first time?"

Michonne stayed quiet. She was trying to come up with a reason to not go up to his rooms tonight.

"I will stand right by the doors if anything, nothing will happen tonight, you have my word." She comforted the royal.

Michonne nodded and left her bedroom with her favourite servant in tow. The two women made their way to the third level of the fortress, to Richard's bedroom. Michonne breathed in and out shakily, trying to compose herself before she had to talk to him.

"I will leave you to it, then." Margaret said as she stepped back and away from the door.

Michonne knocked on the door and Richard opened it almost immediately, scaring the princess.

"You called, my Lord?" She asked.

"Yes, please come in." He gestured. She paused. "This will be your room soon." He said.

"You share rooms?" She asked as she looked around his room. Like the rest of the castle, it had animal heads and rugs on its floors and walls. The air however, was different. It smelled of wood and peppermint whereas the rest of the castle smelled like spices being cooked and sweat.

"I share everything." He replied.

"Even women?" She turned to face him once she had gotten familiar with the room.

"No." He said, blinking in surprise.

"I had heard that you and your uncle enjoy entertaining women at night, sharing them amongst the two of you." She said as she held up the skull of a small animal and put it down, disgusted. Richard made a mental note to get rid of them all.

"When I was a much younger man, my uncle and I did partake in... these activities, yes."

"Do you still partake in these activities?" She mimicked.

"No."

"And why not?"

"I am to be married-"

"To a woman you do not know." She interrupted. Richard smiled, she was not to be played a fool.

"To a woman I do not know." He locked his bedchamber door and walked to her. "Can I touch you?" He asked as he approached her.

"Why?"

"Because you are my wife."

"We are not yet married, my Lord."

"After we are married, I will be able to touch you whenever and however I want."

She glared at him this time. "You will do no such thing."

"I and I alone will be the only one to touch you. You will obey me."

She stared at him, her mouth coming open and her arms slowly drooping. "So this is but a marriage of convenience after all."

Richard straightened. "A trunk arrived for you this morn, in it a letter from your mother and your wet nurse." Michonne's eyes widened at his words. "I suspect that whatever else is in this trunk will be of use to you on our wedding night."

"Yes, of course." She said with tears in her eyes.

He blinked in surprise. "Are you ill?"

"No, tired."

"My mother left us both trunks before she died filled with items she had on when she married my father. I did not expect to see it for three more years." Richard clenched his fists. "When my father told me that I was to be married, I was shocked. When he told me that I was to be married to you..." He was getting angry at himself for taking away her inoncence.

"Will you take another woman after me?" She said through tears. "Will you keep mistresses and whores in your bed?"

"No!" He said, angrily.

"Are you speaking truthfully? We might be French but we are no strangers to gossip. We know of you and your temper, my Lord." Michonne said.

Richard's usual clear blue eyes turned dark. Michonne noticed the change in his demeanour but did not back down. He stalked towards her until they were but mere inches apart. "I do not lie, you will see."

Her stomach plunged, "In due time, I suppose." She fell to the ground and wept openly. He did not know what to do, but assumed her emotive state was due to her travels.

"Go... You must be tired from your travels." He said, not looking at her.

"No."

He stopped adjusting the papers on his desk. "No?"

"No."

"You will not speak to me as if I am beneath you." He watched her. "You will not!"

For what seemed like the hundredth time in the days she was in Ireland, Richard and Michonne looked at one another. Neither one could look away for it meant backing down. "You will do as I say as King of these lands." He said.

"If you do not wish to live a life of misfortune, you will not order me around. I am not a child, I am your future wife, the Queen of England." She stood up albeit shakily and fixed her skirts before approaching him. "You are not the only one with a temper, Wild King. I will not tolerate disrespect." She wiped the tears from her eyes before unlocking the door. "Goodnight, my Lord."

Richard stared at his bedchamber door confused and aroused at what just transpired.

. . .

"Your Highness!" Sir Michel yelled. Michonne fought the urge to roll her eyes and plastered on a neutral face.

"Sir Michel." She greeted.

"I was looking for you."

She sighed out loud and Margaret stiffled a giggle. "What for?"

"I need to speak to you, it is most urgent." He begged.

"At this time of night? Surely it can wait." She did not want to be around anymore, she wanted to go to bed and not think of the wedding or of her future.

"Yes."

"Very well." She agreed to be lead to the mundane courtyard in the middle of the night. 'Margaret, prepare my bath water please."

"Of course, your Highness." She curtsied and continued her walk to the bedroom as Michonne led the way to the courtyard.

"What is it that you want to discuss, Michel?" She demanded.

"I wanted to know if you were really going to go through with it."

"Go through with what?" She glared.

"With marrying Lord Richard." She confessed. "You cannot go through with it."

"And why not? Was it not you who asked my father to accompany me to my husband? You must have done some convincing, I'm sure."

"He does not even love you nor does he deserve you." His brown eyes bore into hers. Unfortunately for him, Michonne no longer found herself drowning in them.

"And you do?" She crossed her arms in his silence. She paced around the small courtyard, it was nice enough, but it would be nicer once she got it cleaned up. "I have decided to marry him."

"You were arguing with him not too long ago."

"You followed me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

"From who?"

"From him."

"Why?"

Michel sighed. "Because he is mad."

Michonne said nothing. She had grown tired of hearing Richard being called mad. If anything, she was the one going mad. He would not let her eat, sleep, or wake up alone even if she ordered him to. "Mad you say?"

"He has a temper."

"As do I."

"I have never seen you angry towards anybody."

"I am angry." She said as she snapped off a small dead branch from one of the aging trees. "I am angry at my father for forcing me to marry I do not know and I am angry at Richard for planting this seed in my father's head." She twirled the small branch in her hand. "I have no voice, I have no choice, but those that are made for me and I am tired of it. Don't you think that would make one angry?"

Michel bit his lip. He did not want to agree because she already knew it was true.

"I grew up as a princess, but I am not a princess by birth. I have to do what is told of me because I am grateful for everything the King has done for me. However, I will not tolerate insolence from any." She paused. "And now, Richard knows as much."

"Yes, Princess."

"What is your reasoning for bringing me out here?"

"I- I wanted-"

"To confess your feelings for my wife?" A voice said. Both heads turned to the figure standing in the far corner of the courtyard. Michonne felt her face flush; she was embarrassed that she had been caught with a man other than her husband or father. He was sure to send her back home to her father.

"My Lord." She curtsied when he made himself visible.

"My Lord." Michel bowed.

Richard waved his hand in dismissal, he was not going to be fooled in his own home. He leisurely walked towards his wife and her guard, noticing that the air between the two was tense. He smiled.

"I thought you would be in bed by now." He said, looking directly at Michonne.

"I was, my Lord."

"Please call me Richard, he said in a soft tone." Michonne flushed, she had never heard a man speak so softly to her before. She smiled a small small. "And you... Sir Michel correct?"

"Yes, your Highness."

"Why have you brought my betrothed to this... place?" He waved his hand around. "It is after dark and there is no one here to protect her."

"I am protecting her." He said sternly.

"Oh?" Richard said, both eyes raised. "Protecting her from who, exactly?"

"From you."

Richard laughed before approaching the taller man. Sir Michel was as strong as he appeared but Richard was cunning and at times, violent. He looked at Michonne who looked at Michel in horror and embarrassment. He did not know what her reaction meant, but decided to deal with it later. "From me?"

"Yes, sire."

"Because I am mad, yes? I am the Wild King, the King who will cause harm to anyone and anything who trespasses me?" Neither princess nor guard responded. "Michonne."

"Yes, my-Richard." She fumbled.

Richard smiled at the fact. He turned to her and before she could step back, held her face with both his hands. Michonne stared at him confused, but not scared. "You will take your bath in your rooms, but shall retire to mine. Do you understand?" She nodded quickly. "Good. Now, leave us."

Michonne picked up her skirts and ran out of the courtyard, leaving the two men vying for her affection alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Michonne slammed the door to her bedchamber shut, startling Margaret who had fallen asleep at the foot of her bed.

"Your Highness!" Margaret exclaimed as Michonne tried to undress. "Your bathwater is getting cold."

"Fetch me some more!" Michonne yelled, the adrenaline from Rick's words were still making her hyperactive.

"Yes my lady!" Margaret said as she readied herself to get more water.

"Wait! Help me out of this, quickly!"

Margaret and Michonne fumbled to get rid of the five skirts she wore. It was not cold out but Michonne had not gotten used to the Irish Fall yet. "What happened? What did Sir Michel say?"

Michonne grunted and exhaled loudly before responding, all of which Margaret found bizarre. "He tried to confess his love for me but then Richard appeared."

"Lord Richard was there?" Margaret gasped.

"No, he was not there, he appeared out of thin air. I think he followed me to the courtyard once he noticed that I was not in my rooms."

"No one came in here my lady."

"Do not worry, Margaret, I am not mad at you. He wants me to retire to his room tonight." Michonne said, giddier than she should be. Margaret's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. Michonne wanted to laugh. "I need you to help me prepare for tonight."

"This is most improper my lady, what will your father - the King - say?"

"The King is in no position to tell me anything, anymore."

"What will God say?"

"I shall confess my sins at Church tomorrow morn. I shall be forgiven."

"Ma'am... I do not like this idea."

"And I do not like the fact that a boy is the reason why you smile more."

"I-"

"I have eyes too, Margaret. We shall talk about this in the morn."

"Yes, you Highness."

Margaret helped Michonne shower and dress as if it were her wedding night. For all the servant knew it might as well have been as she was breaking protocol both set by society and religion. Margaret added lavender oil to her thighs and neck and ensure that she had a dress to wear in the morn. She did not like the idea of her mistress engaging in marital activities before marriage, but did not have a choice but to obey.

"Good luck, my lady."

"Do not worry, Margaret, all will be well."

Michonne put on a heavy cloak to negate from the fact that she was going to her betrothed's bedroom in only her under garments. She walked down the hall leading to his section of the castle quickly and up the stairs to his bedroom even faster. She did not understand how the evening went from her being angry at him to her wanting to be with him, but here she was.

She knocked twice and there was no answer. "Hello?" She whispered. Still no answer. She took matters into her own hand and slowly pushed open the door. No one was there, she wondered if this was a good thing after all. Perhaps Richard meant that she would sleep in his bed while he slept in another.

She walked deeper into his bedroom and gently touched the dark red drapes lining his bed. She had noticed them before but paid no mind to them. They were soft though. The room was still the same as when she had first entered it, meaning the skulls still remained. She hated them and she hated that he had them all around the castle. She removed her cloak and tossed it on the dark brown leather chaise placed right at the edge of Richard's bed. She thought it improper to wait in her under garments, but she was getting hot and tired. She would suffocate if she fell asleep in that thing.

She paced the room again, peering and touching items that she did not get to look at the first time around and noticed that Richard enjoyed reading French poetry and fairy tales. She smiled at the thought of angry Richard reading love stories and eventually giggled. She shut herself up quickly for fear of being heard. She then moved onto the fireplace. She had one in her room as well - almost every room in the castle did - but his was comforting. She sat down on the fur rug opposing the fire and watched it. She mindlessly started braiding her hair.

. . .

Richard had not needed to do anything to Sir Michel, but look at him. It was evident that he would not be gaining Michonne's affection anytime soon.

"What do you want with her?" Richard asked.

"That is none of your business, your Highness." He responded.

"As a matter of fact, it is my business. You are in my home, speaking to my future wife, the future Queen of these isles, and making her rather uncomfortable."

"You do not love her."

"Of course not, I do not yet know her."

"This is a marriage of convenience then?"

"It is a marriage to end a war, to bring an heir to this Kingdom and an eventual alliance."

"You will break her heart." He stated matter-of-factly. "By bringing whores and dancers to your bedchamber."

"I will do no such thing." He scoffed. "Do you love her?" Sir Michel stayed quiet. "Do you love her or do you want to become King?" The two men stared at each other. "There is no way for her to become Queen of the Franks. The King will not allow it, he needs this treaty to last."

"You do not know us."

"And what of her sister? Lorraine is it?"

"What of her?"

"She will not be the Queen of France." Richard smirked. "The throne will go to go to their cousin, a Prince of Capet or of some House, I do not recall nor do I care."

"She will be the Queen."

"Michonne will be the Queen of Ireland and England and Lorraine will become a Countess." He approached the younger man. "I will give you until the wedding to take your leave of my country. Anything after that will have you hanged." He said as he stalked out of the courtyard.

Richard walked up the stairs leading to his bedroom in anger. He did not know why Sir Michel made him so mad, he was irrelevant, but he did. He had suspected that he liked Michonne, but he did not think to the point of returning her to France. He sighed heavily as he reached the top step and dragged his feet to his door.

. . .

Michonne quickly stood when she heard the door unlock, she did not want to seem improper. Although, it was improper that she was in his bedroom clad only in her undergarments. Richard's eyes widened at the sight of her.


	6. Chapter 6

CW: a very basic fingering scene ahead

* * *

The pair looked at each other for what seemed like ages before Richard shut the bedroom chamber door. He never took his eyes off her and Michonne was surprised that he was not leering at her body. Her dark nipples could be seen poking through the thin fabric of her nightgown. He could tell that she was nervous and excited.

"Your Highness." She said as she curtsied.

He groaned. "I told you to not call me that anymore."

"Richard." She whispered, but did not move.

"Michonne." He said as he made his way to her. Michonne wanted to back away, but there was nowhere to go and for some reason, she knew that he would manage to find a way to get to her no matter where she went. "I did not think you would come." He said, standing right in front of her.

Michonne took a couple deep breaths to calm herself before answering, "You invited me."

"Yes, but it was most improper. You do not invite an unmarried woman to your bed unless she is a whore or your new bride." Michonne did not know what to say to that piece of information. She had heard - from her servants - that men take many women in their lifetime. "You, my dear Michonne, are more than that."

"More than a whore?" She questioned.

"More than my new bride." He corrected.

"A future queen, perhaps."

"The only woman I will ever desire." He said taking a step closer to her so that their faces were but mere inches apart.

Michonne looked at him, her pupils quickly shifting back and forth trying to process what was happening. _The only woman he will ever desire?_ She thought to herself. "You are not angered with me, after what I said?"

"Why would I be? You spoke your truth."

"What if it happens again? Will you send me away? Will you share your bed with _whores_?" He laughed and Michonne flinched. It was a hearty laugh, but one also filled with sarcasm. "Richard... I need to know."

"Tell me something Michonne, are you a virgin?"

She looked at him confused. "Excuse me?" She answered before she even knew where this was going.

"I suppose that means you are." He grinned, still caressing her face.

"What does that have to do with anything?" She said, removing his hand from her face. Its presence was no longer a welcoming one.

"Our first time - well your first time - will be a rather public one. There will be an audience present to make sure that we have... Sealed-"

"It will not be your first time?" She asked, hurt in her voice.

"Of course not, I am a man."

"Of course!" She cut him off. "You are a man who takes what he wants, whenever he wants with no regards for anyone else!" She pushed the stray hairs from her face. "That's why my father is looking for another heir to the French throne, so you can have a pretty girl at your side."

"Michonne I-"

"You are just as they say you are."

Rick clenched and unclenched his jaw. He did not want to get angry in front of Michonne, but she was testing his patience. This and the events from a few hours prior had him on high alert. "Will you please listen?"

"For what? For you to explain that the women were just whores? That it was just all in good fun?" He sighed. "When did you get your dick wet last? When?" He remained quiet and she scoffed. "I was willing to commit the greatest sin for someone who-"

A knock on the door interrupted her. She froze, not knowing what to do. Richard looked at her with worry; worry because it would be she and not he who would get into trouble.

"My lord?" A young male servant asked. Richard said nothing for a while until another knock made Michonne visibly flinch. "Are you in there? I have hot water for your bath."

"Yes, of course." He replied, not wanting to cause concern. He put an end to the distance between he and her and whispered, "Trust me." She looked at him skeptically and he whispered the words again before gently kissing her. The kiss was shocking at first - she had not expected him to kiss her - but she could not deny that she enjoyed the feeling of his lips on hers, and she hated the fact that it was over as soon as it happened. A final knock on the door jolted Richard out of his reverie and he pushed her into his wardrobe. "Do not make a sound." He said and she nodded.

. . .

Michonne felt as if she were going insane. She knew no one here - aside from Sir Michel and Margaret - and could not, for the life of her, understand why she continued to yell at Richard at any given moment. She was not one to hold a grudge, it would serve her no good, but she was angry at him for taking her from home. She sighed loudly and quickly covered her mouth with her hands, she was not supposed to make a sound.

"What was that?" She heard the servant say. She heard footsteps coming closer to the wardrobe.

"What was what?" Richard replied.

"Is someone else in here?"

"Why would anyone else be in here?" She heard Richard ask. There was a pause and Michonne nearly forgot how to breathe.

"I heard something, my Lord."

"Perhaps..." He said and Michonne's heart started beating faster. "Perhaps you are a little too nosy."

"No, my Lord." The young man said in a panic.

"Go now, your mama is probably wondering where you are." He said, dismissively, not wanting to torture the young child any longer.

"Yes, my Lord. Goodnight, my Lord." Michonne heard footsteps quickly making their way out of the bedchamber.

"Goodnight, Oliver." He said, laughter in his voice.

"Goodnight, my Lord." Oliver said again as he shut the door.

Richard waited a few more seconds before making his way to the wardrobe. When he opened the door, he found his future wife crouching with her hands covering her mouth. He wanted to laugh, but he did not want for her to think that he did this on purpose.

He crouched to be at eye level with her. "You can come out now." She removed her hands from their position. Richard stood to help her, but she hopped out, leaving nothing to the imagination.

"Right." She exhaled as she fixed her hair. She turned to face him. "I should apologize for my behaviour tonight... For the past days."

"No-"

"Please let me finish." She silenced him. "I have been having a hard time adjusting to being here. Aside from my maid and the King's most trusted knight, I am absolutely alone. I have never been on my own before, I have always been surrounded by people - an effort to make up for my deceased mother, I suppose - and so I do not know how to behave. I have lashed out at you twice now and you have said nothing... Well, not nothing, but I digress."

He chuckled.

"I apologize, Richard."

"I accept your apology, really." He insisted.

"You are not the monster they painted you as."

The tips of his ears turned pink at the compliment. "Thank you." There was a pregnant pause after her apology; neither one knew what to do. Richard wanted to see where the night would take them, but a part of him felt as if he were going to take something precious from her before she was willing to make the decision on her own. He shuffled his feet. "You do not have to stay, you may retire to your own rooms if you so wish."

"Yes, I know." Richard's eyebrows shot up. "I want to stay here... With you."

"Are you sure?" He asked, not wanting to sound too excited. Yes, he was a man and yes, he had slept with many women before, but she was different. "We can wait until it is necessary."

Michonne walked up to him - until there was no space between them - and rested her head against his chest. "I am aware, your Highness." Richard instinctively wrapped his arms around her small, lithe body and breathed her in. She smelled of lavender and some other exotic flower; he could not get enough of it. Michonne wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, but did not know if that would be proper. So she opted for a conversation. "What did Sir Michel say when I left?"

Richard sighed once more before responding. "He believes that I do not love you - or desire you - and that this marriage is but a marriage of convenience." Michonne looked up to him as he spoke. "He wants you to return to France and become Queen."

"Oh."

"I told him that it was out of the question because you are to be Queen of Ireland and England and that your immediate descendants would rule these lands."

"Do you love me or is this a marriage of convenience." She quietly asked. She wanted to know whether this would be a man she would be able to share everything with - a husband to her first and a leader to the people second - or if he would be loveless, like her grandfather.

"This marriage..." He paused and restarted, "Your father did not want you as my bride for various reasons... Mostly because of my reputation. He - like many - are afraid of who they think I am. I am vile, I am ruthless, I am power hungry, and for the most part this is true." Michonne lowered her head. "But that is war and no man can be gentle while in the face of an enemy."

"And when there is no war, who are you?"

"I am Richard."

"A man." She teased and he laughed. "Who chose a girl who is not of royal blood by birth for a wife and Queen."

"A man who knows he can spend the rest of his days with a woman who is as passionate and determined as he, if not more. A man who has perhaps already started to fall in love with a woman who has done nothing but yell at him whenever given the chance." She lightly tapped him on the chest. "A man who will never take another woman for as long as he shall live."

She looked up at him again but this time saw something darker, more primal. "Are you well, Richard?" She was nervous, but felt a stir in her nether regions. Sister Caroline had briefly talked to her about relations between a married man and woman, but had never told her that her clitoris would have a pulse and that her heartbeat would beat at an accelerated rate.

"Go to my bed and lay down on your back." Richard said as he released her and gently pushed her in the direction of the bed. She walked towards the bed in confusion, she turned to look back at him, but he stopped her. "Down." He repeated and she sunk into the comfortable mattress with her arms on either side of her.

He slowly stalked his prey. Michonne could no see him approaching her, but she could feel him. "Richard?"

"Yes?" He replied, directly in front of her. She raised herself up to her elbows to look at him. Whatever was coming next was surely going to have to make her confess her sins and bathe in holy oil. "Do you want to leave?"

"...No."

"Good." He said before lowering his body onto hers and making her his. Michonne instinctively shut her eyes and allowed his tongue into her mouth. While her arms were still at her sides, his were lifting up her nightgown and exposing her. Michonne wanted to stop him, but she also wanted him to take the undergarment off completely. "Touch me." He said.

"Where?" She asked, breathless.

"Anywhere... Everywhere." He said as he pulled her nightgown off, revealing her soft breasts, long and toned legs, and flat stomach. He leaned towards her again, wanting her to become familiar with his face and his body. She gently traced his eyebrows with her right hand, his cheek and his lips - which he kissed. She then ran her fingers through his hair and he lowered his head to her chest.

"Is this-" He lifted himself up and removed his chemise. He then began to unbuckle his trousers when she stopped him.

"Wait!" She paused. "I am not ready."

"Okay." He nodded and adjusted his pants. She searched his eyes for some semblance of anger, but found none. "We can wait."

"Okay." She whispered, but did not move to put back her clothing. In the few minutes that they were in bed together, she had gotten comfortable with being naked around him. "Will you teach me how to please you?"

He chuckled. "Yes and you will teach me how to please you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Sister Caroline said that intercourse is not about female pleasure, only reproduction."

"Has Sister Caroline ever had sex?" Michonne blushed at the crass word. "Or had her pussy licked by a gentleman?"

"Richard!" Michonne screeched while he laughed.

"Sex is about the highest of pleasures. No drug can recreate the effects of an orgasm."

"You would know."

"Of course, I am a man after all." He teased and Michonne tried not to roll her eyes at the already aged joke. "But you too can know what it feels like to have an orgasm."

"What if I wish not to have one ever?" She said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Richard looked at her with a raised brow. "I very much doubt that."

"You doubt it?"

"Yes." He knelt down on the floor and grabbed her calves.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

"Showing you why I doubt you will never want an orgasm." He simply said and he pulled her towards him.

She could feel his breath on her most private parts. No one had ever been this close before, not even Margaret who insisted she keep this area well kept. Richard had begun to kiss her inner thighs and play with her clitoris with his right thumb. When he reached her clitoris, Michonne was already aroused. "Margaret said that this is normal, that this happens." She defended.

Richard laughed. "I know." He pressed his thumb to her clitoris and she shivered. "Finger or tongue?"

"What?" She said, louder than intended.

"Which do you prefer? Be quick before I take it into my own hands!" He drew small circles around her clitoris and she lifted her hips. "Michonne." He cautioned.

"Tongue." She did not know the difference and at this point she did not care.

He immediately removed his thumb and replaced it with his tongue. Michonne bit her lip to prevent her from screaming aloud and alarming every servant person and soldier in the castle. Richard's tongue had latched onto her clitoris and Michonne's hand latched onto his hair.

"Oh God!" Michonne cursed. She refused to move, refused to believe that this was actually happening. She looked down to see what was happening, but was only met with his eyes pouring deeply into hers. She ground her hips into his mouth - the only thing her body would let her do - and moaned louder. If Sister Caroline or Margaret were ever to catch her in this compromising position, she would have been stripped of her title and sent to a nunnery in northern France. She pushed his face impossibly closer to her and Richard took it as a sign to take it a step further. Richard replaced his tongue with his fingers. His cock was rock hard and straining against his trousers. He looked at her hungrily, his eyes going from their regular cerulean blue to a darker hue. Michonne did not know what to make of this but she did not care so long as it meant that he continued doing what he was doing.

"Be as loud as you want, my love." He said while gently pumping in and out of her. She was still grabbing a fistful of his hair, but he did not mind.

"Richard." She breathed out.

"Yes?"

"Harder." She demanded. He smiled wickedly and changed position so that he was now lying next to her.

"Like this?" He asked as he pumped deeper and harder into her virginal folds.

"Oh God." She cried out, no longer caring if someone could hear. She gasped and was surprised to find herself rocking her hips against his watched her as she experienced a myriad of emotions - from absolute pleasure to pain and back to pleasure again. Her hips were bucking wildly against his hand and he decided that he preferred her like this - when her body was in control and not her brain.

"Slower?" He said as he slowed down the pace to an almost torturing one.

"Faster... Please faster."

Richard licked and nipped at her lips, enjoying the feel and taste of her. "You are mine and I am yours." He whispered in her ear. "I want you to cum on my hand; I know you can, I can feel it." Her core had started clenching around his fingers a while ago but refused to let her climax. Richard rocked his hips against her thighs. He wanted her to know how hard he was for her, how much he wanted to replace his fingers with his cock. "Cum for me, Michonne."

She gripped his hand tighter and _

"What about you?" She said, drifting further and further from consciousness.

"What about me?"

"Do you not want an orgasm?"

"You want to suck my cock?"

"I want to learn... Tonight." He leaned down to kiss her.

"Not tonight."

"When?" She whined.

"Soon. You need to rest." He pushed some stray hairs away from her face. She was angelic to him and he wanted to preserve this moment for as long as he could remember.

"Not tired." She pouted. Richard tugged at her bottom lip before pulling her to him.

"Then stay with me a while." She smiled and allowed him to wrap his arms protectively around her.

. . .

Michonne awoke naked in a bed that was not her own. She stared at the ceiling confused before reality hit her, she had slept with Richard last night. She turned her head to the left only to see the back of his head - or rather his hair - and his naked back. One arm was splayed against her stomach and the other was somewhere underneath the covers. She went to move his arm, but he turned around and brought her closer to him, unwilling to let go.

"Richard!" She whispered. "I cannot be seen in here." He didn't move an inch so she slapped his visible cheek. "Richard!" He woke up with a glare on his face until he realized that Michonne was the one hit him.

"First you yell and now you hit; soon you will be known as the violent one."

"Did it hurt?" She said, gently pushing his hair out of his face and caressing his wounded cheek.

"A little bit." Richard said, he enjoyed her touch and would do anything for more of it. He brought her face towards him and kissed her.

"I have to go." She whispered between kisses.

"You do not."

"I do." She said.

"Want to marry me?" He joked and she snorted.

"I have to go back to my bedchamber before Margaret realizes that I am a wench." Richard frowned at that comment and Michonne giggled. "I _am_ still supposed to be a virgin, Richard." He sighed. "On the night of our wedding, you will kiss me here," She said as she used his fingers to trace her lips, "And here." She moved his hand towards her breasts, "And here." She breathily finished as she let his hand wander between her pink folds.

"Here?" He smiled cheekily as he rubbed her small nub. She nodded quickly and hoped that he did not stop his ministrations. "I take it you enjoyed yourself last night then." He said as he flipped them over so that she was lying on her back again.

"I did."

They looked at one another with a newfound understanding and appreciation. "We have time." Richard whispered. "I want you to stay."

"No." She said with a smile. She pushed him away and he groaned dramatically. "I shall see you at breakfast."


	7. Chapter 7

Margaret looked at Michonne in disgust. "I can smell the sin on you, my Lady."

Michonne laughed as her young maid stripped her of her clothing. "Who are you going to tell? My father?" Margaret opened her mouth and shut it. As much as she was not happy with her mistress' actions, she did not want to go back to France alone and jobless.

"No, my Lady."

Michonne paused before speaking. "I had an orgasm last night."

Margaret squealed but quickly composed herself. "Sister Caroline said-"

"Sister Caroline never has never had a tongue on her pussy!" She repeated Richard's words much to Margaret's horror.

Margaret did the sign of the cross. "What has he done to you? He has tainted you!"

"He has not!" She retorted.

"He has! You cannot wear a white dress to your wedding. I forbid it!" Margaret was fussing about the room, flustered and intrigued at the same time.

"You will not tell anyone about what happened, you cannot. He is my husband to be, there should be nothing wrong with what we did."

Margaret looked at her mistress, "You smell like sweat." She said and the two laughed. "Please do not call upon me after your... encounters, I cannot bear the smell of you."

"oh, stop it! You are being dramatic."

. . .

Michonne and Margaret finally made it to the Great Hall late morning. Sir Michel was almost done with his breakfast while Richard had barely touched his, he was waiting for Michonne.

"Good morning, my Lord." She said to Richard. "Did you sleep well?" Margaret covered her laugh with a cough and Richard's ears turned pink.

"Very well, thank you." He said as he placed his napkin on his lap.

"Good morning, Sir Michel." She said politely. Richard and Michonne has spent a greater part of their night talking and learning about one another. She admitted that Sir Michel and her had always had a flirtatious relationship, but that she knew nothing would become of it because she was always destined to be a queen. Richard was not surprised by the news but he was not happy. He all but forbade her to entertain him without a chaperone - he did not want to have to cause physical harm to his future wife's insolent guest.

"Good morning, Your Highness." He places his napkin on his plate. "I must get going, I have to make sure everything goes well for your father's arrival."

"When will he be getting here?"

"In a few hours." He replied. Michonne nodded her head and he excused himself. The arrival of her father also meant that the wedding was also soon to come. She did not know whether to be excited or nervous or upset.

"Leave us, Margaret." Richard said, startling Michonne out of her day dream.

"Yes, My Lord." She curtsied and scurried out of the room. She did not need to be told twice when her presence was not wanted or needed. Michonne suddenly felt overwhelmed. She was to be married and soon, coronated in a country that was not her own.

"Michonne?" He said and she looked up. "I will always be at your side." He could not touch her for it was against protocol. He had wanted to spend more time with her alone, but now that her father was on his way, it would be impossible until the end of the wedding celebrations.

"I know, thank you." She smiled shyly at him and his face turned red. She made him feel like a boy and he liked it, he liked the feeling of discovering something new and finding out that the new thing also liked him back. "Eat, you will need your energy to face my father and sister." He laughed and the two ate in silence.

. . .

At 2PM, Michonne awoke from her midday nap and readied herself for her father's arrival. She brushed her long brown hair into a side braid and wore a dress in her father's favourite colour: red. She was excited to be in the presence of her family, but she was also dreading it because it meant that she could no longer spend her evenings in Richard's bed. His bed had become a safe haven, she enjoyed it more than her own not only because it was larger, but because the man who it belonged to had quickly stolen her heart. She sighed as she applied her heavy emerald green necklace.

There was a knock on the door. "Madam, your father is here." A castle servant said. Margaret had run off to help with preparations.

"Thank you." She replied. The servant curtsied and shut the door. Michonne sighed, it was going to be a long and eventful day.

. . .

"Papa!" Michonne cried as she all but ran towards him. Richard and her father were conversing in one of his many private rooms, each man holding a glass of wine.

"Michonne, my dear!" He said as he enveloped her in a hug. It was not common for royals to hug one another, but this was an exception, they had not seen each other in a while. "How have you been?"

"Well, Papa. Margaret and Sir Michel have been keeping me company." Richard's smile faltered a bit at her comment.

"And what about the King; your future husband?" He asked and Michonne blushed. She no longer knew how to describe him.

"He has been... Very kind," She started, "And very patient with me while I adjust to this climate." Richard took a long gulp of his drink and walked towards the miniature bar for a refill. He was thankful for the fact that there were no servants to prevent him from further embarrassment.

Olivier III nodded his head in approval. Despite the fact that he did not want his eldest daughter to marry a man who was known for his violent behaviour, he was glad that she was not being dramatic. "And you are not just saying this because I am here?"

"No!" She nearly shouted. "Of course not, Rich-my Lord has been the most gracious host, permitting me to speak my mind whenever and ensuring that my rooms were always warm." She heard Richard cough so she decided to stop talking.

"I see." Olivier III said while eyeing his daughter suspiciously. Michonne fidgeted, she did not know what to do or say anymore. "Very well then. I should probably get to the reason as to why I have summoned you." He paused. "Before your mother - the Queen - passed, she left a trunk for you and your sister to be opened on your wedding day. I do not know what these trunks encompass, only that it took her a very long time to complete. Your sister does not know this and I intend to tell her once she finds a suitable husband." He said while looking at Richard who had rejoined them in the middle of the room.

"The trunk is in your room and Margaret will have the key for you on the day of your wedding. Your mother wanted it to be a complete surprise." Michonne stared at her father with tears in her eyes and Richard stared at Michonne. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that her mother was not the only person who loved her, who would continue to love her until their dying breath, but her father was present and it was most improper.

"Thank you." She whispered, tears threatening to fall.

"You are most welcome, my love." Her father said, gently kissing her forehead. Richard took another sip of his wine, not wanting to seem as if he were intruding a very intimate and personal moment. "Richard!" The King bellowed after a few moments.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"At first I was against your proposal. I did not want my daughter - the heir to the throne of France - to marry you, but she says that you are a patient and kind man and so I have no choice but to believe her. You have my blessing to marry my daughter."

Richard looked at Michonne and smiled. Olivier noticed how his daughter dipped her head shyly and smiled. He smirked to himself, something had happened between the two of them and he was willing to let it go for the greater good of both nations.

"You may go now, dear child. Enjoy your afternoon." He dismissed.

"Your Highness, my Lord." She curtsied to both men and left the room feeling lighter than when she entered. She hurriedly walked to her bedroom, excited to see what her trunk looked like and what could possibly be inside. As she walked past servants and working members of the castle, she thought back to the day she and Lorraine asked their mama about her wedding day.

 _"Mama, what did you wear on your wedding day?" Eight-year old Michonne asked, looking up at her mother who sat on the royal bed._

 _Her mother had smiled down at her, her chestnut coloured hair falling around her waist. She sat between both her daughters, her hazel eyes shining at them. "Well, would you like me to tell you or show you?"_

 _Lorraine hopped up on the bed, her eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. "Show us, Mama, show us!"_

 _Crown Princess Simone de Bourbon and later Queen Simone d'Évreux smiled and laughed at her daughters' antics. "Alright, you two wait here while I get ready."_

 _The girls made themselves comfortable on the bed and waited impatiently as their mother gathered their old nurse. The two older women whispered and giggled as they got ready for the Queen's wedding._

 _When her mother had finally come out, she was wearing a sift white dress that exposed her slim waist and seemed to go on forever. Her white vail was equally as long as the dress and was made of a transparent fabric that she remembered she wanted to play in. Her jewelry matched her dress and made the browns of her eyes pop more than they usually did. Michonne stared at her mother in awe. She wanted to be like her._

 _They immediately ran to her and surrounding her, wanting to know what the dress felt like and how it moved. The Queen giggled, she adored her daughters and their expressions. "When you are to be married," She said to her daughters who were distracted by the length of the dress, "You will each have a piece of my attire. Michonne you will have the veil and jewels and Lorraine, you will have the dress."_ _The two girls squealed in glee._

Michonne took a deep breath before entering her room. She knew that as soon as she did, her mother would be waiting for her on the other side. She took a few more deep breaths for good measure and opened the door.

"Took you long enough." Lorraine said. Her younger sister was sitting on her bed, looking at her nails.

"How did you get in here?" Michonne asked, confused.

"I asked." Michonne rolled her eyes and went to her vanity to remove her necklace and earrings. "Are you going to open it?"

"Open what?" She feigned ignorance. If there was one thing their father did not know it was that the two sisters had grown apart ever since her betrothal.

"The trunk." Lorraine demanded.

"On my wedding day." She replied dryly.

"Why not now?"

"Because I have other things to attend to."

"Like what?"

"Minding my business for one." She said, turning around to look at her sister. Lorraine groaned and jumped off the bed. "What is it, Lorraine?" Lorraine rolled her eyes and flipped her hair. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Then why are you acting like you hate me? I have not even spoken to you in weeks. You have sent no letter or message to let me know of your well-be-"

"Do you even care?"

Michonne was stunned. "What? Of course I care! What kind of question is this?"

"You have not returned!" She screamed. "You said you did not want to go and yet, here you are, preparing for your wedding day!"

"I have no choice!"

"You could have refused! You readily accepted to marry him, that bastard of a man."

Michonne approached her sister aggressively that the younger royal took a few steps back. "You will not speak of what you do not know." She stared at her younger sister for a minute before continuing, "We do not all get to do as we please, sister." Lorraine glared at Michonne as she spoke. "Leave me now."

Lorraine slammed the door shut and she made her exit from her older sister's bedchamber. Michonne knew that their relationship would be very different from here on out. She sighed and resumed brushing her hair, she would deal with her sister when the time came. For now, she had a wedding to prepare for.

. . .

Richard knocked on Michonne's door. It was late in the evening and everyone had retired to their rooms. He had not seen her since early afternoon and was desperate for a taste of her. He heard her shift about, possibly looking for something to cover herself up with. He smiled a bit as she had taken to sleeping in the nude alongside him.

She opened the door and her shocked reaction turned into a shy smile. "Richard." She greeted.

"May I come in?" She poked her head out and looked in the hall, she was suspicious of her sister. "Is there something wrong?"

"My sister." She sighed. "Has been acting oddly since her arrival." She still had not let him in. "I suspect she is up to something so unfortunately, you will have to sleep in your own rooms tonight." He pouted and she giggled. "Come tomorrow, there will be no more hiding." She said as she lightly kissed him. "Goodnight, Richard." She shut the door in his face and he groaned playfully.


	8. Chapter 8

I'm going to speed things up a little bit because I've just realized that the original story only has 9 chapters of story content and I'm on chapter 8 with nonsense. This chapter will start off with the wedding and then we will most likely end with one more chapter (and hopefully a better sex scene).

* * *

The Wedding

Michonne sat still while Margaret and five other servants got her ready. She was not allowed to brush her own teeth for fear of doing something wrong or breaking tradition. It was her wedding day and everything should be perfect. Except, she felt less than perfection. Her mother was not present and her sister was currently angry with her. She sighed.

"She will come around, my Lady." A servant said.

"How do you know?" Michonne asked.

"Jealousy. I have seen it many a times and it usually goes away in a fortnight or so. Unless..." She looked to the other servants who all looked at one another. Even Margaret stayed quiet.

"Unless what?" Michonne asked? "Margaret?" She looked to her confidant.

"Unless your Highness' sister is angry at you for something else." The other servants resumed their task, not wanting to get their new future Queen angry with them so early in her term.

"What do you mean? Has she said anything?"

"My Lady, Princess Lorraine has been... upset with you for some time." Michonne's eyes widened. "At first I thought it was because she was not going to be the Queen of France, but I overhead-"

"She was screaming your Highness." A maid corrected.

"It was because Sir Michel is in love with you."

"I do not want Sir Michel. You told her as much did you not?"

"Yes, my Lady, but she refuses to listen. She believes that you will marry King Richard for convenience and then have him as your... bed partner." Margaret said, blushing furiously, knowing that Michonne had been spending her nights with the King.

"That is not possible."

"We know, your Highness." All the women nodded, they knew where she was in the evenings and they were excited that the future King and Queen were entranced with one another. She would perhaps guide him and prevent him from starting needless wars that took their husbands and sons from their homes.

"You know?"

"Yes, we have eyes everywhere, but we can also keep a secret as grave as yours."

"So... You do not hate me?" She looked at each and everyone one of them and they all shook their heads.

"No, my Lady. You have made our King most happy. He has not yelled once since your arrival. We believe you to be a great asset to our lands."

Michonne smiled tearily. "Then I will not disappoint you."

. . .

"The key, your Highness." Margaret said as she handed Michonne the key to her chest. Michonne was wearing a white, long-sleeved dress with gold trims. Her bodice gave her a very curvaceous illusion, of which she knew Richard would enjoy. Her head was adorned with a small veil - which would be adjusted or removed, depending on the contents of the "treasure chest" and her neck and ears were adorned with heavy and shiny jewelry. She took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Margaret." She said as she hugged her best friend.

Michonne stared at the chest, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

"Open it." Margaret urged. She was equally as excited and nervous as her mistress. Michonne jolted at the sound of Margaret's voice and quickly opened the chest. Inside were neatly folded and impeccably embroidered white sheets along with a dozen purple candles - her mother's favourite colour as well as a short nightgown made of soft white silk lay inside a heavy cloak made from the best cotton. Michonne put the belongings in Margaret's hands.

She then unveiled several small items socks and christening wear and soon realized that they were for her future children. She nearly choked, but refused to let the women's hard work to go waste. At the bottom of the chest lay a wooden box. She took the box out and opened it. Inside, there was a tiara made of silver and sapphire.

"I want to wear this instead."

"Of course." Margaret happily replied.

The two women went about removing her original tiara and replacing it with her mother's. Despite the fact that it was not the tiara her mother had worn on her wedding day, she had recognized it from her mother's many paintings. It was her favourite item. Michonne blinked more tears away and steeled her jaw, there would be time for tears later.

"I can do this." She said to herself. "Mother, past queens, please be my guides and let your courage be with me."

. . .

Michonne linked her arm to her father's and smiled. Today was going to be the start of the rest of her life. Her father patted her hand in encouragement and she smiled wider. "You can come and visit anytime you want." He whispered before the church doors opened.

"I will."

. . .

Michonne stood next to her betrothed, and very soon husband-to-be at the altar. The church was larger than she had expected. In fact, she had not visited the church she would be married at because she had been stubborn for the past month and a half. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before facing Richard.

The ceremony was in Latin and Michonne was grateful for it. She knew that the English were not Catholics and despite being fluent in English, she did not know what she would do if she were to have to convert to the Church of England. The priest - in all his boring glory - mumbled on about the royal couple's responsibilities to God. Michonne wanted to roll her eyes because she knew that the Roman Catholic Church - of all religions - fornicated with both men, women, and children. They were hypocrites for all she knew.

Richard smiled at her, noticing her bored appearance, and she smiled back. The priest cleared his throat and both went back to bowing their heads in prayer. After what felt like an hour, the priest looked to Richard and mumbled words for him to repeat. Michonne did not care to listen to his words for they were scripted, but she did hear him say yes, as though her ears were desperate to confirm his want of her. The priest then turned to her and she repeated the exact words he told her. When it came time for her to respond, she froze- she was terrified.

"Do you, Michonne d'Évreux, former Crown Princess of France, take Richard I of Ireland and England?" She looked at the priest who impatiently waited for her answer. "Do you-" He started again, but she cut him off.

"Yes." She said. She heard Richard breathe a sigh of relief. "I do."

. . .

A flame lit inside Michonne the moment the door was gently shut behind. Despite there being five men present, she went on the tips of her toes and kissed him. She wanted to kiss him all night and did not care who was present. He squeezed her hip with one hand, the other moving over the curve of her bottom. The men gasped and Richard pulled away, there would be time for that later.

"Your Highness, we are here for a specific purpose, not for pleasure or exercise." A fat and balding man said matter-of-factly.

"Of course." His face was stern but his eyes were twinkling.

After the wedding celebrations were over and a very much needed confession as to why she was struck to silence during the ceremony, Richard and Michonne had made it to his rooms where they would seal the marriage.

"You are so beautiful," he said, his voice low so that the men would not overhear.

"Kiss me." She bedded begged.

He kissed Michonne slowly and led her to the bed. Upon touching the heavily blanketed bed - the sheets her mother had left her - she paused. Everything was so surreal.

"I thought that you would appreciate them."

"Thank you." She said, teary eyes and he responded by caressing her face and neck. She was wearing a shorter nightgown which made it easier for him to explore. He lifted the item slowly and settled between her legs. The feel of his skin hot against hers was neither new nor unwelcome, but the thought of what was going to happen was petrifying. Michonne first adjusted herself to his weight, then lightly grinded her pelvis against his like he taught her. He groaned and smiled.

There was a question flashing on his face. They had slept together before, but never actually partaken in intercourse. It would hurt for her, he knew and she would feel humiliated for being in such a vulnerable position with this many people present. "You are mine and I will take care of you for the rest of my days."

"I want this, Richard. I do." She was turned on by the fact that we had total skin-to-skin contact, but nervous because it would hurt. She slowly exhaled, trying to calm my nerves and allowed him to remove the nightgown from her body. He then lifted himself from her and removed his tunic. Michonne openly and wantonly stared at his body, uncaring if the men were judging her for it. He was her husband now and she could do whatever she pleased with him. "Take these off too." She said as she touched his manhood.

Richard barely kept in a moan as she stroked his chest.

"Does this hurt you?" She innocently asked, as if she had not familiarized herself with his body. He huffed, playing along and she raised her eyebrows at him, returning to her task. She played with his nipples which made one of the men look at her questioningly and drew the outline of his lips when he brought his forehead to hers. "Take them off, Richard." She purred.

He shifted in his spot, not wanting to be away from her heat any longer, and kicked off his pants, revealing a pale and round ass. He brushed a flat palm along her breasts and stomach, tracing a light line with his fingers. Michonne giggled, a man coughed, and Richard kissed her again to stop her.

Richard licked and nipped at her lips. He carefully dragged his fingers to her centre, hoping that none of the men interrupted his exploration of her so help him God. Michonne watched his face silently as he slowly entered her with his middle and ring finger. She gasped, eyes wide, as his fingers soaked up her juices and stretched her in the best way possible. She squirmed and he grinned.

He leaned down to suck on her breast and she grabbed his hair out of habit. She moaned as he tasted and teased her and was so caught up in his movements that she forgot that there was an audience watching, waiting for the royal couple to do produce an heir.

Richard did not let Michonne finish. Instead, he pulled out his fingers and licked them. Michonne and the men watched in aroused horror as he sucked on his own fingers. He then stroked his length against her sensitive bud a few times before pushing into her. Michonne cried out, she felt like she was being ripped in two. Rick held her close and tried to help her relax.

"Move, please."

He complied instantly and started moving his hips shallowly so as to not hurt her. He wanted her to get used to his size before moving faster or deeper inside her. He felt like he had died and gone to heaven; her walls were so tight, he did not know whether he was going to last or combust.

Michonne breathed deeply and loudly. "Faster." She whispered into his mouth. She had quickly gotten over the pain and now wanted to enjoy herself. "Faster, please."

He thrust into her faster, causing his already unkempt hair to flop wildly above his head. She moaned aloud with every thrust, the odd mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through her body. She fell back onto the bed, letting him take over. He lifted himself up and grabbed her hip with one hand and her breast with the other. He fucked her mercilessly and she immediately decided that this was how she would want it with him every single time. He moved his hand from her breast and towards her clitoris, he was going to make sure she finished alongside him.

Her hips bucked wildly against his; he could feel her walls tightening signalling her orgasm. He chuckled breathlessly, knowing that he was going to finish very soon after her. She cried out again, this time with an attempt to push his hand away, but he did not relent. She crunched her face and shut her eyes and came harder than she ever though possible. His hand returned to her breast and he softly knead it as he emptied himself inside of her. He fell on top of her, spent, and Michonne laughed. She wrapped her arms around the upper half of his body and placed soft kisses on his face, ear, and neck. Richard nuzzled his sweaty face into hers.

"Is that all, gentlemen?" Michonne asked under Richard who was too comfortable in his nudity and too happy in his position to address them himself.

"Yes." The men mumbled, blushing furiously. "We shall meet again tomorrow morn with the paperwork and discuss your coronation. Goodnight Your Highnesses."

Once the men had left the room awkwardly holding the front of their robes, Richard turned to face Michonne and kissed her. The newlywed couple started making out again like wild boars, exploring each other until her neck began to ache. He turned them over so that she could stretch her arms and so that he could enjoy the view of his perfect new bride.


	9. Chapter 9

Fogo - Portuguese for fire

* * *

Richard opened his eyes and blinked, the warmth at his side was endearing - all he wanted to do was stay in bed and make love to his new bride. However, as fate would have it, that was not the plan for today.

Today he and Michonne, needed to meet with her father and the court to sign a treaty of peace amongst nations to seal their new alliance. Richard dreaded it simply because it meant that he needed to be clothed and because he knew that it would be difficult for Michonne to say goodbye to her father and sister. He rolled over and stared at the sleeping beauty beside him. Her face was soft in sleep and her curves looked smooth. There were slight bruises where his hands had been - her buttocks and hips - and he kissed them fondly. Her long lashes fluttered open and Richard could see that the afterglow of her orgasm was still there.

He felt his member twitch, but he kept still. He did not want to cause a ruckus so early in the morning. "Did you sleep well?" He asked her, caressing her skin.

She sighed happily as she stretched her body, he got all the answers he needed. "Why must we be up so early on the morning of our wedding?" She whined.

He smiled, rolling out of bed in the nude. "Because we have a peace treaty ceremony to attend and it will take us a few hours to get there."

She lifted herself up to her elbows, the blanket falling from around her shoulders lazily. The two stared at each other before Richard said, "They can wait a little while longer." He mounted the bed and she covered herself up. "Never hide yourself from me. If you do, I will be forced to take you where you stand."

Michonne laughed aloud and Rick violently removed the blankets covering her naked body from him. He got on top on her and kissed her hard, their breaths intermingling. Michonne usually refused to speak to anyone before brushing her teeth but she found this moment oddly intimate and arousing.

"Take me." She said into his waiting mouth.

"I intend to." He smirked and entered her.

. . .

Michonne sat uncomfortably on her horse, she could not ease the discomfort between her thighs even with the extra padding added. She spotted Richard in front of her and rode a bit until she was next to him. Lorraine looked at her retreating figure in disgust; she was still annoyed that her sister had quickly made a home out of this cold and miserable landscape. Richard looked regal on his horse - a black stallion by the name of Fogo.

Aside from the chattering of some servants in the back, the whinnies or the horses, and the heavy breathing coming from Richard's prize hounds, they rode in silence. The sun was shining on the small group - today was going to be a good day, and then Michonne saw the fort. New Winchester was where all treaties were signed between the English and the rest of Europe. She had been there a few times before, when her grandfather had signed a treaty with Richard great-uncle to end a ten year war.

"I have been here before." She said to him. He raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. "My grandfather and your great-uncle signed a treaty here."

He smiled at her, unable to help himself. He was glad that she knew a little bit about his country. He put his hand out for Michonne to take and kissed it when she placed her hands in his. She blushed at the gentle gesture.

. . .

Richard and Olivier entered the fort first followed by Michonne and Lorraine and then Sir Michel and the servants. Michonne and Lorraine had been dismissed to the parlour room while Sir Michel was tasked to helping the servants. This angered Lorraine even more.

"He brought Papa dogs as a treaty gift. Dogs, Michonne." Lorraine scoffed.

"They are pups from his most prized hounds." She responded.

"And what are we to do with them?" She blankly stared at her older sister.

"Hunting, guarding, whatever Papa decides." Michonne said, dismissing her sister's attitude.

Lorraine rolled her eyes. "And he has Sir Michel working the stables like a servant. He is a knight in the French Guard!" She cried out. Michonne looked at her sister. She was confused as to what exactly was going on with her. She was dreading spending the entire day with her and hoped that her husband was faring better with her father.

. . .

Richard's hand clenched as he attempted to cut a piece of hard meat. "Did you have time to examine the dogs?"

"Yes," Olivier started, taking a sip of wine. "They are fine specimen. Pups you said?"

"Michonne, Lorraine, and Sir Michel will be joining us this evening - after we sign the treaty - and then, we will go our separate ways in the morning." Olivier looked down.

"Unfortunately, I do not make the decisions, they are made by the court." Richard finished

"I understand." He said.

"Michonne told me that she is planning to return to France to visit." Richard lied.

"Oh?" Olivier said, happier than he should have.

"After her coronation." He finished, taking note of the other king's attitude change. "In a year."

Olivier nodded. This was really the end – his daughter would become queen of another country and he would have to watch over her from afar. "Of course."

Richard took one last bite of his meat and a servant quickly came to remove his plate. "Shall we?" He asked the older royal; he did not have any more time to waste.

Olivier allowed a servant to take his plate as he stood. This whole affair was unprofessional, but he could not argue. The rules were as archaic and barbaric as the man standing before him. He followed the young king as they made their way down a dark hallway. He was unsure if they were going to sign a treaty or if he was going to be murdered - he had heard of the Irish and their brutalism. Richard opened a heavy door and entered. Olivier followed suit and was caught by surprise. The room - which he had assumed to be a dungeon - was actually a library. There were texts all over the place, even on tables, in different languages. Olivier did not know where to look first, but fortunately for him, Richard's voice led him directly where he needed to be.

He stood in front of a high table in front of a man in a dark cloak. Olivier frowned a little bit, his face reminding Richard of Michonne's own, and approached the two men.

"Your Royal Highnesses." The cloaked man rasped and both Richard and Olivier nodded their heads in acknowledgement. "It goes without saying that you are both here to end the war between France and England, but let the record show that I mentioned it." Richard smirked at the man's joke. "There are ten terms that Your Highnesses must both agree to or the treaty will be void."

The man lead the two kings behind the stand so that they could read it alongside him. "The first – and by far the most important – is the consummation of King Richard I of Ireland and England and Princess Michonne d'Évreux's marriage and the last is the retreat of all English ships from the French sea." He paused. "Shall we begin?"

. . .

The two kings exited the salon side by side.

"I suppose I should go and speak with my daughter before we dine tonight." Olivier said.

"Of course." Richard hurriedly agreed; the man was visibly upset that he was losing his daughter to a man who terrified him and his people.

They walked together in silence for a few more minutes before Olivier said, "I am sure you know of the stories that are told about you." Richard laughed. "And if I am correct, that my daughter has accused you of being…"

"A beast." Richard said.

"Yes." Olivier blushed, embarrassed for his daughter. "Do you love her?" He hesitated.

"I like her. And I could learn to love her."

"Do you respect her."

Richard laughed. He had nothing for respect for a woman who was not afraid of speaking her mind. "Very much."

Olivier nodded. Perhaps he had prejudged the young king, but it was not his fault. He had done unspeakable things in the past in the name of England. "I see." He thought out loud.

. . .

Michonne sat in one corner of the parlour while Lorraine sat in the other. Michonne had decided that it was no use trying to reason with her little sister because she refused to be reasonable. She also refused to make sense.

Michonne sighed and turned the page of a poetry book she had found around the room. She wanted this day to be over so that she could go back to lying in bed naked with her husband. Just as she was about to do another dramatic sigh, there was a knock on the door.

Both pairs of eyes looked to the door. "Come in." Michonne answered. "Papa!" She exclaimed when their father entered the room.

"Hello, my darling." He said, kissing her forehead.

"Has everything been settled?"

"Yes."

"England is our new ally now?" She asked.

"France is your new ally now." He corrected and she looked down. Everything was confirmed now. "Do not be upset, we will see each other very soon and very often. After all, you will be Queen."

She smiled at the information. Unbeknownst to her, Lorraine fumed. "What about me?" She asked. "What will I get? What will I be?"

"You, my dear, will still hold onto your title and position in France." He answered her.

"Why can't I be Queen of France?" She asked, angry.

Olivier released Michonne and walked towards his youngest daughter whose face was full of rage. "What is the meaning of this, Lorraine." He harshly whispered, not wanting to alarm the guards and servants standing outside.

"I am the rightful heir to the throne of France not her or our cousin. I am your true heir and it should have been me who married King Richard to join both kingdoms."

Michonne could not help but be shocked at her sister's confession. "You spent all your time focusing and grooming a child you brought in from the streets that you forgot about your actual daughter."

"Enough!" He yelled, much to her irritation. "Your mother and I raised you both to our best abilities. You were given everything and more, we thought you would appreciate it, but it seems that it only made you greedy and selfish."

"I-" She started, but her father's hand dismissed her.

"Upon our return to France, the court will decide... On what to do with you." He finished as he exited the room leaving the two girls alone.

Michonne stared at her sister. Lorraine stood shell shocked that her words had backfired on her. She swallowed a few times, not wanting to make her humiliation and sadness public.

"Why do you hate me so?" Michonne asked, startling her sister. "I loved you, you were my sister." Lorraine's anger suddenly returned.

"Forgive me sister, I had forgotten where I was."

"What happened to you, Lorraine?" Michonne whispered, but stood up to leave the room before the younger woman could respond.

. . .

Richard stared at Michonne as she quietly drank her soup. The dinner was awkward to say the least and he had been told what happened through a servant. Michonne had refused to eat anything else and he could not understand why. "You must eat something." He pleaded.

"I am not hungry." She replied.

He did not want to force her, but he also did not want her to pass out of exhaustion on their journey back. "Do you want to leave tonight or tomorrow morning."

"Whatever is best."

"Michonne, I-" He stopped himself before he got irritated. He did not want to make her angrier than she already was. "We shall leave tomorrow morning then."

. . .

Richard watched as his wife aimlessly walked around the guest bedroom. It was improper for them to be in the same room while signing a treaty, but he was concerned about her wellbeing.

"Come." He commanded. She walked up to the bed and crawled to him, resting her head on his chest. "What happened between you and your sister?"

"I do not know." She honestly confessed. "She went blind with rage, telling me and Papa that she was the rightful heir to the throne of France – because she is of noble blood – and that… I do not understand." She said, wiping her tears. "She is my sister."

He held her tightly as she wept in his arms.


End file.
